


The Backpackers

by hscrooney



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adventure, Europe, F/F, Romance, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27768952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hscrooney/pseuds/hscrooney
Summary: AU where Piper was not a demi-god. After the giant war and the trauma it caused, Annabeth Chase travels to Europe to get a break from the tears, where she encounters Piper McLean, attempting to get away from her vapid, meaningless life. Sparks fly. Pipabeth. I'm in no way sorry.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Piper McLean
Kudos: 17





	1. Hostel

I don't know what I'm doing here. I look at all of their faces, and I see disgust. Contempt. Am I making it up? Is it just my own fucked up mind? My own illusions tormenting me? I take a breath to clear my mind. I have the same right to be here as they do. I step up to the check-in counter, and ask for a bed. "$10" the woman at the counter says in a thick Hungarian accent. Already cased as being american. That's fine. That's fair. Probably sensed the accent. Though I know I shouldn't, and I know if I turn around I wouldn't see anything, I feel pinpricks of heat on my back. Somebody's staring at me. They're probably just looking at my ass, I tell myself. It's strange that that's the most amenable option, isn't it? Better they be a creep than somebody who noticed that Piper McLean, daughter of an international superstar is skulking around hostels in Hungary.

It's not that I've run away. It's more that I've left with twenty-five thousand dollars in my pocket and not told anybody where I'm going or that I was leaving in the first place. I'd never say I was unhappy- god, I'd sound like a massive prick, but I quite honestly got bored of the luxury. I got bored of the same monotony, the same suffocating Los Angeles heat, the same "friends" who hang out with me because they're jealous, the same locales and landmarks and mansions bordering mansions. And I got dumped. Hard. So I left.

Despite myself, I do turn around, but the only person there is a blonde woman, who sits typing intensely on her laptop. Where did everybody else go? The hungarian woman gestures at me. "You're in room three, bunk four.". "Thank you", I say with a quick nod. I slip her a ten, then turn around again towards the common area. The blonde woman still looks engrossed in her laptop. I sigh. I came to this hostel to meet people- why not start now?

I walk through the archway that separates the lobby from the common area, the floor tile turning to lush carpet, and the room theme going from drab grey to a bright electric blue. I walk through the mass of couches, arranged at seemingly random angles, going to the one on the very back. Up close, I can see the blonde looks rather unhappy, like a perpetual pout but one seemingly perpetuated for a good reason. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. She's already noticed I'm here, however. She removes her headphones, and turns to me, saying with her eyes all she needed to say. She's a bit annoyed. I hesitate, and her eyes sweep over me. I can see she's the type of person who'll hate me more if I have nothing to say than if I do and she doesn't like it. She stares, a cold hard stare, one that requires that I break it, less I am caught in its magnet beam permanently. "Uh…" I say. "I'm kind of new in town…"

At that the blonde laughs, a cynical, almost mean spirited laugh, one where any joy still within has been perverted. She doesn't say anything else, and she doesn't break the stare, so I continue.

"I was thinking about going out for a drink, but I don't exactly know anybody here. You want to come with?". She still stares, but she seems like she may be considering it. "I'll buy all the drinks", I quickly add.

She rolls her eyes and smiles a tiny smile. A speck of joy. "Fuck it" she says. She extends her hand. "Annabeth".

I shake it. "Piper".

We somehow trust the taxi driver to take us to a club. He tells us in a light voice with a thick accent this is a good one for dancing. I feel obligated to believe him. We're let in at the front: I may not be calling myself the daughter of a world famous action star anymore, but I never said I stopped being drop dead gorgeous. Blondie's not too bad-looking herself.

The music is good for me. I can let myself not care. I can throw myself and all of my energy, all of my pent up rage and aggression, into a furious dance. I can let myself slip away, as I order drink after drink. Annabeth seems to be just as willing to ignore her troubles, downing everything I buy for both of us. That's right, I'm buying the drinks. 'Cause I want to feel in control. Because I need to take some control. A guy comes next to us. "Can I buy you ladies a drink?" He nearly screams over the music. I'm drunk enough that I could take him up on his offer, but before I can say yes or no, Annabeth kisses me on the mouth.

"We're together", she says, the first words I've heard her say after I asked her to dance. She gives me a little smirk, and I can't help but feel… something start to flicker within me. I look into her eyes. Has anybody ever told her how deeply and fantastically grey her eyes are? Maybe I should. I open my mouth to speak, and kiss her instead. It's like my body interprets them as the same thing. Maybe they are the same thing. She kisses me back. She tastes like whiskey- not exactly a surprise. I pull back. I'm drunk. She smiles at me, a wicked smirk on her face. One that I like. Enough to kiss her again.

We somehow make it back to the hostel in one piece. I hailed a taxi and somehow Annabeth remembered the address. She slept in my lap in the taxi, the silence of the unfamiliar city outside being more comforting than creepy. It was soothing, the gentle rocking of the car, her breath, the rising of her chest, the cascading of the fountains outside. Nobody on the streets. Now, I lay awake in my bed, still trying to process tonight. Annabeth's in the bed above me. What a coincidence.

Is this what this trip is going to be like? Frenching random women in different, more exotic bars? Sleeping on bunk beds in different, more exotic rooms? Not that I'm complaining, I guess, but it was a bit of a departure from my normal life. I mean, making out with a girl you've just met is one thing. But making out with a girl who hasn't spoken more than five words since you've met is a bit of another.

A sound snaps me out of my trance, and I look up to see Annabeth descending the ladder that leads from my bunk to hers. She's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized shirt. She turns to me. As she comes closer, I can see that she's been crying. She nods towards my bed. "Hold me?" she whispers. How could I say no?

She clambers into my bed, forcing us to spoon in order for us to both stay in it. I hold her through the night and into the morning, my face buried in her blonde hair, my hands wrapped around her stomach.

—-

Who is she? What is she? Is she a monster? A nymph? An undiagnosed demigoddess? The touch of her tan skin makes my heart flutter, a kiss on her lips fuels me like I've never been fueled before. Her dark hair smells like wild raspberries. I feel warm in her arms, I feel safe and protected in the same way I haven't been able to since the end of days. I've been with others. I've done the exact same thing to other people at other hostels in other clubs in other countries. But she's different. She's more here. She's with me, in a way nobody really has been for a long, long time. One night isn't enough to draw any conclusions; I know that from rationality. But quite honestly, fuck being rational.


	2. Red Scare

Darkness. Swirling, empty, beautiful darkness. I cannot see my hands, I cannot see my body, I cannot see anything at all except for darkness. The beauty of emptiness fills my every pore and I am encapsulated within the void. I am the nothing, and the nothing is me. I smile, even though I cannot feel my face. I laugh, even though I cannot make a sound. I feel happy. Until, slowly, out of the corner of my eye which cannot see, I begin to realize that there is something else in the void with me. There is something in the darkness, something that I should not be able to detect. There is something in the nothing with me. Terror grips my every bone as somehow, I know that it is coming closer. And closer. I brace myself.

And then it kisses me.

I wake when she wakes, stirring in my arms. She- Annabeth- turns around and stares me in the eye, more intense and haunted than I remembered from last night. She smirks, like everything was just a ploy to get me in bed and then crack some joke about it. But I already know that's not her game. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it. "Lunch?" she asks in the most innocuous way you can to somebody you just spent a night with. I stare at her, then, almost unconsciously, I work my hand into her thick blonde hair and pull her closer to me. Her breath heats the top of my lip. I stare at her for a second- comprehending. Then I breathe "Yes", quickly and quietly, and pull back. We just woke up. I've probably got morning breath.

We change with the tired enthusiasm that comes from having a pretty bad hangover and also a whole lot of desire. I catch her looking at me, yes, in desire, but there's something more behind that, a deep sadness that I get the sense I shouldn't even try to understand.

I take extra care to brush my teeth.

We wind up in a small internet cafe, depressingly similar to American ones. We get coffee. We need it. We sit down at a small table with our drinks and eye one another with mock suspicion.

"So, who are you, exactly?" she begins, surprising me by taking initiative.

"Isn't that a question you should've asked me before you snogged me?" I snap back, joking.

"I've done a lot more and known a lot less", she says. "At least I know your name. Piper, isn't it?"

"You've got a good memory", I say. She does. "Well, I'm Piper, as you know."

"And?" she asks. "Why are you here? What are your hopes? Your dreams? Where do you come from? What do you do for a living? Just give me something here."

I smile. "I was getting to all that stuff, I swear".

"I'll believe it when I see it", she says.

I take a deep breath. "I'm Piper… Laurence." I tell her, trying to be as straightforward as I can without saying too much and spilling my identity. "I'm here to get away from my family. I'm kind of here to figure stuff out, so I don't have a ton of hopes or dreams. I suppose I hope I'll figure out what I want to do with my time on earth. Twenty years old and an existentialist already. That's basically it."

Annabeth sideyes me. "You and I both know there's more to you than a girl who wants to get away from the big city and find herself.", she says. "You're a person. I know that you're not telling me something. And that's fine. Gods know I have enough stuff I can't say."

I look at her, this woman, this person, who I don't know, who I never have known, who I may never know. I look at her entirely, as a whole being, as a mind and a group of thoughts entirely separate from my own, as someone who has been put on this earth independant of me, and through a million tiny choices and decisions and coincidences has wound up across the table from me, choosing to spend the precious moments in her constantly shortening life with me. I look at the crinkles at the ends of her mouth, the endless gray eyes I could fall into, the ones I somehow know conceal secrets greater than anything I could ever keep, the hair that cascades down the sides of her face. I see the way she completely let me keep my secrets. And viewing her completely, I have no choice but to decide to tell her everything.

"My name is Piper McLean", I say. "And I just got dumped."

A peal of laughter erupts before I can continue. Annabeth sits with an amused expression, She holds up her hands in mock surrender, caving to my apparently furious look. "I'm sorry," she says, "but you just stared at me for like two and a half minutes and then just kind of started speaking out of nowhere. And so dramatic, too. Continue confessing please."

"I'm not sure I want to anymore if this is the reception I"m going to get" I say in mock haught.

She laughs. "Alright, your highness.", she says, "May thou doth continue? I beg that thou shalt."

I laugh and roll my eyes. "Alright.", I say, getting the conversation back on track. "Like I said, I'm Piper McLean. As in daughter of international superstar Tristan McLean. I left because I needed to get the fuck out of Hollywood, and because I hate my fucking ex. I hope that I can find something, anything, that can give my useless, self-indulgent life meaning.".

Annabeth narrows her eyes. "I hope this isn't weird for you", she begins, "but full disclosure I had a poster of your dad on my cabin wall for a couple pubescent years."

"One." I say. "It's not weird. It's really fucking weird. Is that why you've basically been trying to jump into my pants? Two, is that the takeaway you're going to get from that story?"

"One", she replies, "Give yourself credit; you're way hotter than your dad. Two, who exactly is jumping into who's pants, little miss get me all hyped for a steamy kiss and then back out at the last second."

"You're just baiting me now", I say, semi-incredulous.

"Yes." she says. "Yes I am.". And then she kisses me. Hard.

We break off. I go in for another one, but she stops me with her hand. "Let me tell you about me first.", she says.

I stare. "Now who's Miss hype?"

She relents. "Fine, but just-"

I cut her off, the kiss evolving into more kisses, into grasping at one another and moving closer together, until I become sober enough to realize that we're having a full-on makeout session on top of a table in a coffee shop and care enough to stop. An elderly couple at another table gives me a thumbs up. I smile.

"I have to say", she says, once we've gotten re-settled into our seats, "you sure to kiss better than that poster of your father."

I simply shake my head, and she laughs, which makes me laugh. I look at her with a suppressed grin. She winks at me. I roll my eyes. We're high-schoolers, trying to eyefuck one another across the classroom. "I'm Annabeth Chase", she says, finally. "And I'm a servant of Karl Marx and the Hungarian Comunist uprising."

I take a second to stare at her. She's fully stone faced. "What are you-" I begin to say until her laugh cuts me off.

"I'm fucking with you", she says. "It's ex trouble too."

"You got dumped too?" I ask, with the sweet tone of a sympathetic sister.

"Worse", she says with a sad smile. "He died."

"He died?" I ask, incredulous, curious, and sad at the same time.

Her face grows a lot sadder, and tears begin to pool in her eyes, seemingly just out of the emotion of memory.

"He died saving my life" she says, choking up. "So I can't exactly fucking resent it. But we were- we were so fucking close. To the end of it all, to the end of all the trouble and the conflict, and the dying. We could've started a family. But he was a hero, he was a goddamned hero to the very end. I guess somebody's got to be a hero. But I don't know why it had to be him."

She's fully crying now. I come over to the other side of the table, and I hold her, and I rock her back and forth, because what else can I do? It's not like I understand her pain. "What was his name?" I ask, once she's calmed down just a bit.

"Percy Jackson".


	3. The Tower Of Acceleration

SOUNDTRACK: Come Into The Water by Mitski

Light strings through a stained glass window as I look at the clearly distraught and incredibly beautiful woman in front of me and question whether she's insane. And if we're dating. Kind of both at the same time.

We're being led through some kind of old castle. There was a sign offering free tours, but it's all in Hungarian, so I nod along and pretend to understand what's happening. But aside from all of that, I can barely comprehend what Annabeth has told me. After she'd told me his name it all started spilling out. Greek gods, and greek monsters; ancient heroes and new ones. A whole new mythology spelled out, one she not just believes in but has interacted with viscerally. One who killed her ex.

My ancestors believed in a whole suite of spirits. I don't, I never have, and I suppose, neither does Annabeth. But what she's asking me to believe in is far crazier. That the greek gods exist? That they not only communicate with the mortal world, but have children with it? It's a lot to stomach. And demonstrating by using a Yankees cap which makes her disappear? Utter insanity.

What does that cap have to do with the greek gods? Are the Yankees some god I haven't heard of? Annabeth tried to explain it to me as a gift from her alleged mother, Athena, but I didn't know she was the goddess of invisibility hats. How she did that hat trick is a completely different and arguably more urgent question. But I don't want to answer that. I want her to stay powerful. Even if it's a delusion.

She took me outside of the coffee shop, to some kind of ancient cobble-stoned alley lined with back-doors and dumpsters. She took out the hat. She told me to focus on her, so I stared at her with equal parts adoration and confusion. She put it on, and like a ripple effect coming from her feet her entire body disappeared, and I was left alone in the alley.

I stared without fully registering for a few moments and then snapped to action like ice being shattered by a pick. I ran to where she had been with as much urgency as I could find. She simply did not exist in the same space. I felt a tap on my shoulder and frantically turned around to see nothing. Then she took off her hat, and like before, rippled back into existence.

I ran to her and seized her and felt her and kissed her until she, laughing, called me off and told me that she was really there. And I wanted to believe her, and I wanted to understand, but the tears flowing down my face made a difference. I'd only known her for a couple of hours. Damned if I'm going to lose her this fast.

That cap is an issue I don't want to touch upon. One I don't really want to see again, ever.

Annabeth is clearly very clever. But god-level clever? Calling yourself the kid of a god is some kind of insane power trip, and it totally doesn't match the vibe I'm getting from Annabeth at all.

But measuring somebody in terms of their vibe isn't really a measure of anything at all. I get nothing but good vibes from her. When she smiles, I want to smile. When she kisses me, I want to stay in that second forever. I get the vibes off of her I want to. I can't help it.

She mentioned that boyfriend. The dead one. She said he died killing giants. Now, according to her, that's literal. He killed literal giants. But, that could just be her way of coping with some kind of drug addiction. Cocaine, heroin, anything. Something hard to get past.

Or it really could've just been…. Giants. And he was a "demi-god" or some shit. And they kissed in a bubble on the bottom of a lake and they fell in love over years and grew up and fought monsters, and then he lost his memory and they went to hell together and then he died by sacrificing himself. He was a hero until the end, she tells me. It's quite a story, regardless of if its true.

I don't know what to believe. She doesn't seem insane. I suppose they never do.

We go together through the tops of the castle, looking out over the firmaments at the old city spread out before us. We huddle together for warmth, jackets drawn tight and noses bright red from the cold air, acting like real girlfriends for once. I like it. She's clearly trying to win me over, but I like the attention. I feel wanted. Beautiful.. I suppose she doesn't know how much I've already fallen into her eyes. I make sure she knows how much it's appreciated with some cold-lipped but warm-feeling kisses.

She's the one to break the silence on what we don't want to talk about.

"So", she says. "Have you decided if I'm insane or not?"

Her voice drips with light-hearted snark and wit, but I sense desperation and emotion that makes me know she doesn't want to lose me. I feel… I feel important.

I crack a half-smile. "Not yet, not yet."

"Look", she says. "I'm not asking you to believe everything. I came here to get away from all of that. I just need you to understand that my past has been relatively traumatic. And whatever fucked-up psychological thing you want to get out of "has literally been to hell and back", I want you to understand that it's about three thousand times worse. I've gone through shit. But I want you to know that I want you, and I want this relationship more than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life. My trauma is not me".

I give her a sad, but validating smile. Or my best approximation of one. And I embrace her and say "Annabeth. I barely know you. But you are a gorgeous person with a gorgeous soul. And if you've gone through things I can't comprehend, good or bad, I'll do my best to try. I want this relationship as much as you do."

And I plant a kiss on her lips, not a kiss of lust or even of love. It's a contract kiss, which, yes, sounds incredibly goofy but really just means that I've sealed what I said with a kiss. The most pure form of a signature, I suppose.

Tears well up in her eyes. Happy ones. She smiles. She take my arm. I smile back. And we rejoin the tour.

We're about to start exploring the dungeons when it happens. The ground starts to shake. Just a small earthquake, the guide tells us in broken english when I shoot her a worried look, but Annabeth's eyes look like stone which crumbles in front of me as she looks from me to the tour group to the environment.

Her eyes widen, a tear creases out, she draws a dagger from her waistband, and as she lunges into a fighting stance she PUSHES me through a thick mist that hadn't been there before, and I levitate for a breathless second until I fall through and come face to face with a monster.


End file.
